


A Murkrow Problem

by FleetSparrow



Category: POKEMON Detective Pikachu (2019)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Pokemon Detective Pikachu (2019) Spoilers, Post-Pokemon Detective Pikachu (2019)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: Tim rescues an injured Murkrow and takes it to be healed.  Assumptions are made.Remix of Estirose's "Take up the rest".
Relationships: Tim Goodman & Pocket Monsters | Pokemon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	A Murkrow Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Estirose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estirose/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Take up the rest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798214) by [Estirose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estirose/pseuds/Estirose). 



Tim really didn’t know how he got into these situations.

OK, maybe he could blame his dad for getting him into the police force solving “Pokémon crimes”, whatever those might be -- leave it to good ol’ Harry Goodman to volunteer you for something you had no real qualifications for. Turned out, Pokémon crimes covered a wide variety of offenses. A lot of them had to do with egg smuggling and illicit day cares that charged way too much to house Pokémon, which, while definitely bad, weren’t exactly dangerous activities. The underground battling rings that he’d already infiltrated with his dad’s Pikachu -- his dad _as_ Pikachu -- those were bad.

And still, he didn’t have a Pokémon partner.

Which was fine. Totally fine. He didn’t really _need_ one to get by in Ryme. It was just weird not to have one.

Sure, people looked at him funny, but that had been happening his whole life. It just got weird when they started asking awkward, prying questions, like, “How long since your partner died?” and “Are you still in mourning?” You know, that sort of thing. Or when they tried to set him up on “Pokédates” to meet up with different, unpartnered Pokémon.

OK, that was actually kind of weirder, but he’d got through it.

It’s not like anything could compare to actually talking to his dad inside Pikachu, but maybe that was an unfair standard to hold every other Pokémon to. After all, no one else’s Pokémon talked to them, either.

Where was he going with this train of thought?

Right. How these things happened to him.

He was currently sitting in the waiting area of a Pokémon Center while several nurses and a few Chanseys discussed how to treat the Murkrow he’d brought in. How the Chanseys were making themselves understood was anyone’s guess, but they seemed to be consulting pretty well.

Tim bounced the box lid against his shin, getting tired of tapping his foot for the time being. It wasn’t like he had somewhere else to be, really. This was part of his job, rescuing injured Pokémon and filling out the paperwork on them. He just didn’t really expect it to take so long.

Finally realizing he should probably start filling out that paperwork _now_ , he balanced the lid on his lap and began writing.

This is what had happened:

Tim had come home to his apartment -- his _dad’s_ apartment, but it was starting to feel more and more like his, too -- only to have an already injured Murkrow crash through his window.

His _closed_ window.

That was going to cost something to fix. Maybe he could get a Mr. Mime to just Mirror Coat it for a while.

Anyway.

So, the Murkrow was hopping around, half-fluttering, but not with enough strength to take off again. It kept looking at him like somehow it was his fault the window had been closed when it flew in. It wasn’t like he’d closed it on purpose.

He didn’t have anything to carry the Murkrow in, and there was no way he was putting his bare hand near those talons, especially not near an injured, extra-large Murkrow. He found a storage box that his grandma had sent him packed with towels and kitchen items (since she didn’t believe that his dad could cook, which, well, wasn’t an unfair belief). Quickly dumping the kitchen stuff on his bed (because, really, he wasn’t doing any cooking, either), he brought back the towel box and placed it near the Murkrow.

“OK, buddy. Hop in.”

The Murkrow looked disdainfully at him. Hmm, maybe it didn’t like being called “buddy” by a stranger. Or maybe it was a female Murkrow, who didn’t like “buddy” either way.

In any case, the Murkrow finally hop-flapped its way towards the box, took one look at the towels, and fumbled away from it, sitting triumphantly on the hard lid beside the box.

Right. Murkrows were stubborn Pokémon.

One terrifying ride down the elevator later -- mental note: never be in a tight enclosure with a huge Murkrow, especially not an injured, occasionally squawking one -- he was out on the street, dodging people, with a Murkrow on a big box lid.

Definitely not his most graceful look.

“Mr. Goodman?”

Tim looked up from his report. A nurse was standing in front of him, smiling down at him. Beside her was the Murkrow, one leg bandaged with two shiny metal clasps holding the bandage on, but otherwise looking much better than when he’d brought it in.

“Your Murkrow is fully healed!”

“What about the…?” He nodded towards the bandage.

“Oh. She wouldn’t let us take it off,” the nurse said. “Some Murkrows like wearing them as a sort of badge of honor. And you know how Murkrows love shiny things!”

“Uh, I don’t, actually,” Tim said, rubbing his neck. The nurse cocked her head. “I mean, I read about that, but. Um.”

He really, _really_ , should’ve stopped talking a few sentences back.

“Is she a new partner?” the nurse asked, still smiling.

“No. I mean, we’re not partners. She just, um, crashed through my window.”

The nurse blinked, her bright smile flickering. “Oh. I see.” The smile returned. “Well, she seems quite attached to you, so make sure to take care of her!”

“But I--” The nurse had already walked off. OK, so they were better with Pokémon patients than people. That was fine.

He looked down at the Murkrow. “Can you walk?”

She croaked at him and pulled the lid out of his hand, dropping it with a bang, and promptly sat down on it.

“Oh, boy,” Tim said. “Well, I guess you can stay for a little while. But we are _not_ partners, got it?”

The Murkrow looked sideways at him, as if saying that she’d never deign to be his partner anyway.

“Good,” Tim said, picking up the lid. “Glad that’s settled.”

The Murkrow squawked loudly, not content to let him have the last word.

Tim sighed. This was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?


End file.
